After Voldemort
by sjmax
Summary: Harry has defeated Voldemort and the tragic loss of life and destruction of Hogwarts is true to the original story, but the moment Voldemort ceases to exist, Harry momentarily loses consciousness and then it's my version of events. Harry wakes up, but there is something wrong with him...
1. Chapter 1

Am dipping my toe into the wonderful world of HP. There are 1000's of fanfics and as many fans, so this may well be the first and only chapter. If you like, tell me so. If you dislike, tell me why.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes, and then he closed them again. They felt too heavy. He heard groaning and realised it was him. He tried to move, but he couldn't feel anything.

"Harry!" It was Hermione. "Harry, are you okay?"

He felt hands on him, moving him gently, turning him over.

"Is he okay?"

"Harry, Harry mate, can you hear me?"

Ron and Hermione exchanged a worried look.

Harry opened his eyes. His scar wasn't hurting, but his head, generally, felt as if it was going to explode. The pain was white hot. He felt a sheen of sweat break out over his body.

"Something's wrong," he croaked.

"Just rest, someone will come…" Hermione looked around. There was so much chaos. People running about still. She glimpsed Professor McGonagall, white-faced, issuing orders and then Hagrid, carrying someone in his arms.

"Is he really dead Ron?" Harry looked at his friend. He wasn't sure if he had been dreaming or not. "Fred, is he…?" He saw Ron's face and trailed off. A hot tear spilled from his eye. "I'm sorry," he said and closed his eyes again. He wanted to weep, but he was in too much pain.

"No one blames you Harry." Ron said. He felt Hermione's hand caress his back. He took a deep breath. "None of us do."

Harry groaned again.

"What about Voldemort?" he asked.

"Gone," Hermione said. She looked at Ron nervously.

"What happened?" he asked. He tried to sit up, but his body wasn't working properly. He got the feeling something was wrong again.

"He just broke up," Ron said. "Disappeared." Ron smiled, but Harry saw the grave look he gave Hermione.

"What is it?" Harry asked. He looked between his friends. "Something's wrong, isn't it?" He waited, but the silence told him nothing. "Tell me," he said.

"Let's get you up first," Ron said.

He put his hands on his friend and eased him into a sitting position. A new pain shot through Harry's body. He felt as if he had fallen from a great height. The he remembered he had fallen from a great height.

"Voldemort. Has he really gone?" he asked. He looked at Ron.

Ron nodded. "Gone."

"You did it, Harry." Hermione smiled, but Harry could see she had been crying.

"_We_ did it," Harry said. He tried to smile, but his face wasn't working.

There were sudden footsteps and Neville appeared, running.

"Blimey, Harry!" He stopped. He had blood dripping from several wounds on his face. "Are you okay? I saw from the window…" He stepped closer. "What's happened?" He looked at Ron and then Hermione. "What's wrong with him?"

Harry felt his heart flutter nervously.

"What is it, Neville?" He stood up, but he felt lightheaded and stumbled. Ron caught him.

"Take it easy, mate," Ron said.

Harry shrugged him off. He was panting with the exertion and the pain.

"Tell me," he said through gritted teeth.

Hagrid appeared, smiling, but the smile died on his face.

"Harry…" He stopped and stared.

Then Mr Weasley appeared, followed by Mrs Weasley and Seamus and Dean and more students and teachers all slowly began to file out towards Harry, but every one of them stopped and stared.

Mrs Weasley stepped up to Harry. She had red puffy eyes. She touched his face gently, then she turned to her husband.

"We need to take him home," she said.

Mr Weasley nodded.

"Will someone please tell me…" Harry trailed off. He saw Ginny in the distance. She smiled and walked over slowly, and like her mum, she touched his face.

"It's done something to you," she said. He felt her fingertips, cold on his face. "Your face is burnt," she said. "It's…" she paused and dropped her hand. "You have a black scar…"


	2. Chapter 2

Harry looked at himself in the mirror. He recoiled in horror and fear, but his eyes stayed staring at his reflection.

Then he reached up with his hand and slowly touched his face. On one side, his left, his flesh was black from the side of his eye, near his temple, down his face to his chin where it faded, as if it had been smudged. He traced the outline of it with his finger. It was rough and scab like. Disgusting.

He had lived his life with a scar, but not like this. He looked at it again. If he tilted his face to the side slightly, he couldn't even see it. He laughed without humour. What good was that?

He hit his head in frustration and fear. He wanted to scream and cry, but the feeling stayed inside, tormenting him further.

Trembling, Harry leant his forehead against the mirror and closed his eyes. He tried to breathe deeply. He reminded himself it was over, that Voldemort was dead.

He turned on the tap and let it run out cold, then he filled his hands with water and splashed his face.

The black scar hissed. It felt alive somehow, and a feeling of dread coiled around his body, like a snake. Harry thought of Nagini and shuddered. She was dead too.

There was a gentle knock at the door.

"Harry?" It was Ginny. He didn't want to see Ginny. "Harry, please. Come out."

"Go away Ginny," he said coldly.

He heard another voice, then Ginny's again: "He won't come out."

"Harry, mate, mum and dad are worried. We're all worried."

"No need," Harry said. "I just want some privacy. I just want…" He gritted his teeth suddenly consumed with a burning rage. What he thought; what he wanted to say, was, 'just leave me alone, all of you, go away and leave me alone'. He cleared his throat. "I just need some time," he said instead. "Please, Ron."

Ron mumbled something and then there was silence.

Another knock.

"Harry. If you think we're going to let you go through this alone, you've got another thing coming. So, take your time, but we'll all be waiting here for you when you decide to come out."

Harry could have just opened the door then, grabbed hold of Ginny and kissed her and begged her to stay with him forever. Instead, he said nothing and let her go.

* * *

"What do you think Minerva?"

"I think we need you Aberforth." He grunted and tugged at his long beard. "This is your time, so any help you can give us…"

"Us?"

Minerva McGonagall looked out of the broken window to the ruins of Hogwarts. She sighed.

"Most will need to leave. Nearly all the students, and many teachers, but when Potter is ready, we need to offer him sanctuary and…"

"And what?"

Minerva looked back at Aberforth. She looked into the bright blue of his eyes, and not for the first time, was struck by how alike his brother he was.

"You have lived in your brother's shadow for too long Aberforth," she said. She took a deep breath in and held his gaze, and then allowed a smile to flicker across her features. "I can only offer Potter hope," she said. She leant forward. "When the time comes, he will need you."

* * *

It was dark when Harry finally left the bathroom. He was cold. Chilled through to the bone. And he was hungry. He was surprised to feel hungry, as if it was a luxury he didn't deserve.

He didn't hear anything at first. He hoped he might be alone, that they had all gone to bed, but as he crept down the stairs, he saw the light and then, from the kitchen, he heard voices. He stopped and took a deep breath. He knew he couldn't hide forever.

He pushed open the door.

Mrs Weasley let up from her seat and embraced Harry like her own son. He felt her body shaking as she wept.

"You never, ever, have to be alone, Harry," she whispered into his ear.

Harry felt himself weakening in her arms. He felt her love, but then he saw Fred's face in his mind.

"I don't deserve this," he said, pushing her away. He looked around. "Mr Weasley," he said weakly. "I'm sorry about Fred…" He looked at George. "I'm so sorry…"

George stood up. "You have nothing to be sorry about Harry." He embraced him too.

Then Mr Weasley stood. He held out his hand. "You are like a son to us now Harry," he said. "We would be honoured to welcome you into our family."

Harry took his hand, but his insides knotted further still. There was something other than dread he felt, and he realised it was shame. It rampaged through his body and made him feel sick.

"I can't…" he said. He looked back at Mrs Weasley who was dabbing her eyes and nodding emphatically at her husband. Then he looked at Ron and Hermione.

"I can't…," he said again.

Hermione stood up.

"Look," she said. "No one said it was going to be easy, but you have to share this burden Harry." Her eyes were wet with tears, but she smiled at him. "You have always tried to do this alone. You have always tried to protect us." He watched a tear as it rolled down her cheek. "You have sacrificed yourself Harry, endured more than any of us could ever understand, and now those that love you, want to pay you back." She stepped closer to him and took his hands, then she reached up and kissed his cheek. "There's never any need to be alone anymore, okay?"

Harry let his own tears fall unashamedly. He saw Ron sniff and wipe his nose and even Mr Weasley was blinking furiously.

"And if that doesn't convince you, maybe this will." Ginny walked into the kitchen from behind Harry and placed her hands on either side of Harry's face. Then she reached up and gently kissed him on the lips. "You're not going anywhere Harry," she said as she pulled away.

"Steady on," said George. "I mean, I like you Harry and you've defeated 'Whatshisname', but she is my sister."

Harry laughed, despite himself. Ginny laughed too, but Harry saw the pain on her face.

"Whatshisname?" Hermione looked at George.

"Well, we don't have to be afraid to say his name anymore," George said. "But does he deserve to even have a name? I thought Whatshisname was perfect."


	3. Chapter 3

Harry was awake and staring at the ceiling. He hadn't slept much. Since the story had unfolded, how he had had stood, wand to wand with Voldemort. How he had finally, victoriously, claimed the Elder Wand and how Voldemort had broken into pieces. Harry kept seeing his snake-like face and his perpetual scream. Whether from fear, or pain, or horror that he had been defeated, his expression was frozen inside Harry's mind. Awake, he could be distracted, but with his eyes closed, it was all he could see. Over and over, until he felt as if he was going mad.

He felt the scar on his face. He had been used to his old scar, the lightening bolt, causing him pain whenever Voldemort was close by, but it was part of him and ultimately, it had helped him see, and understand Voldemort. But this was different. This scar felt malignant upon his flesh. To Harry, it felt as if it were living and breathing.

It scared him more than Voldemort ever had.

And it disgusted him.

He turned over in bed. Ron was quietly snoring. They had been home for 2 weeks. 2 weeks of forced jubilation that Voldemort's reign was at an end. 2 weeks knowing that Hogwarts could never be rebuilt the way it had been and 2 weeks knowing some of his friends were dead, because of him.

The day that was now beginning to peep through the gap in the curtain, promised to be different. It was a day set aside for Fred's Memorial. He would be remembered and honoured, and his life would be celebrated. There would be no mourning for Fred. George was adamant.

Harry wasn't sure how he would cope. He pushed aside his covers and quietly walked to the window. He moved the curtain and looked out towards the undulating hills. There was a part of him that wanted to just walk across those hills and never look back, but he was scared to be alone. If he left there, he had nothing. Dumbledore was dead. Snape. Hedwig. Sirius. If he knew where they were, he would even consider going back to his uncle and aunt's. Even a lifetime with Dudley would be less painful that the life he was living.

Harry stared out into the gloom. He leant his forehead against the cool of the glass and then he closed his eyes and wished he could be someone else.

There was a sharp noise, a _chink_, against the window. Right in front of his nose. He opened his eyes quickly. Someone was standing out there. He wiped the glass that was foggy from his breath and stared at the figure who stood out, black against the grey.

It was Draco.

For a moment they stood staring at each other. Harry wondered if he might be dreaming. He looked over his shoulder at Ron, but he was still sleeping soundly. He looked back at Draco who lifted one arm and beckoned Harry.

Harry continued to stare at Draco. He didn't hate him like he had for most of his time at Hogwarts. He pitied him. He had Lucius for a father and that was bad enough, but he was lost too, and Harry had long since sensed, that Draco had wanted to be honourable, like Snape; a sheep in wolf's clothing. A sheep with a lion's heart.

Draco beckoned again and Harry let the curtain fall back against the window. He reached for his dressing gown and then paused. For some reason, he didn't want to meet Draco in his pyjama's. He grabbed a jumper and pulled it over his head and then tugged on jeans.

He walked from the room and down the stairs. The house was unusually silent. There was always noise and the quiet was strange.

Harry walked through the kitchen and recoiled at the smell that had been lingering around one of Mrs Weasley's huge stewing pots. She had been concocting something frantically and in secret and had refused to use magic. Everyone had taken bets on what it was she was trying to make, although George asserted his mother had simply "lost the plot".

At the back door, Harry pulled on trainers over his bare feet and then walked out into the cold dawn.

Draco was like an apparition. His white face and white hair looked like a mask, and his black clothes a costume. But Harry wasn't afraid of Draco, and as he walked towards him, he suddenly realised he had no wand. Since the battle, Harry had hated the feel of the Elder Wand in his hand. He hated the feel of any wand in his hand.

If Draco had his wand and wanted to kill Harry, now was his chance, but Harry kept walking anyway.

He stopped when he got to Draco.

"You're not welcome here," he said.

Draco's face belied nothing of what he was feeling, but then Harry saw his expression change as he saw the scar on his face.

"Do you like it?" he asked bitterly. "Just to make sure I can never forget."

Draco averted his eyes. "I'm sorry," he said.

Harry laughed, but it was without humour.

"You're sorry? It's a bit late for that now, isn't it?"

Draco nodded. "I had to tell you that." He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again, Harry saw something he had never seen in Draco's eyes before. "I have been so wrong," he said. "About everything and I want you to know that. I don't care about anyone else and I don't care if I have to live my life a prisoner in my own home, but I want you to know."

Harry studied the pale features of the boy that had taken pleasure in causing him as much pain as possible, but he seemed tired now.

"Where's your dad?" he asked.

Draco shrugged. "On the run," he said. "All of the Death Eaters are."

"Gathering an army?" Harry suggested derisively.

Draco shook his head. "Not likely. They're terrified of you after what you did to…"

"Voldemort." Draco winced and Harry smirked. "Are _you_ terrified of me Draco? Is that why you're here? To beg forgiveness, so I don't come after you?"

Draco stared at Harry and Harry realised it was despair he saw in Draco's eyes. He shook his head.

"I came here without a wand," he said, and he held his arms out to the side. "And I'm not scared of you, because you are a better person than I have ever been." He took a step closer to Harry and Harry saw a spark of fire in his pale eyes. "You will never kill me because you know I'm nothing. I have never been anything, and now…" Draco paused and dropped his gaze.

"Go on," said Harry. "And now you're what, Malfoy? All alone and scared?" He laughed scornfully.

Draco looked back at Harry and then nodded, slowly.

"Yes," he said quietly. "I'm alone and scared and I know that's how you feel too." He gestured to the house behind Harry, the Weasley Home. A home full of love and full of the friends who had stood by Harry since the beginning. "I know that everything inside those ridiculous walls is making your life misery."

"You don't know anything!" Harry said. He felt the anger boiling inside him now, but Draco just smiled.

"Wow," he said. "I'm spot on, aren't I?"

Harry clenched his fists. He was suddenly relieved he didn't have his wand, because the desire to hurt Draco was strong.

Draco shrugged. "I just know," he said, whispering. "I know that every day you endure being told you're the reason everyone can live without fear, is like poison to you. I know that every day you're fussed over and smiled at, makes the dark hole inside of you wider than it was before." He glared at Harry, challenging him. "If you stay here Potter," he said with some of his familiar smugness, "there will be nothing left of you within a year."

"Why did you come here?" Harry asked. He was shaking inside, but somehow, he managed to keep his voice even.

"It's ironic, isn't it? The two of us, sworn enemies, now have nothing in their lives, but each other." Draco smiled. "See you around, Potter."

Draco walked away and Harry watched him until he disappeared. He didn't move even then, because he feared he might collapse. Something was holding Harry together, but it felt like a thread, nothing more, and at that moment, he was frightened if he moved, or spoke, or even breathed too deeply, he might literally fall apart.

Like Voldemort had fallen apart.

* * *

Author's Note: I would be so grateful, if you like this story, to write a review saying so. I realise HP is not particularly current, but I love writing it, so if you like, please say. :-)


	4. Chapter 4

Dumbledore was sitting behind his desk. He was smiling and his blue eyes sparkled as they had always sparkled. For a moment, he said nothing and then he opened his mouth. The wisdom in his voice was like dust. It coated everything.

"I know you're afraid," he said. "And rightly so." His wiry eyebrows moved up, challenging. "The fight between dark and light, good and evil, is age-old. Older than me. Older than time."

"There is nothing, now, to fear, Sir."

Dumbledore leant across the desk and placed his hands against the polished wood. They were large hands and weathered, but his fingers were surprisingly long, as if he were a musician.

"The thing you must always fear," he said. "Is not out there, in the world, but it is inside yourself."

* * *

Harry woke up with a start. He felt the steady rhythm of his heart and for a glorious moment, he believed that Dumbledore was still there, still looking out for him. Guiding him. But then he was plunged into despair again. He was gone.

"Harry?" It was Hermione. Harry had fallen asleep on the sofa after seeing Malfoy. "Are you okay?"

Harry sat up and took the mug of steaming tea that Hermione was holding out to him.

"Thanks," he said gruffly.

"Can you come into the kitchen," she said.

Harry sipped his tea. He shrugged. "I don't like surprises, Hermione."

Hermione smiled. "You'll like this one."

Harry stood up. "Lead the way," he said tiredly.

Mrs Weasley was in the kitchen, with Ron. They both turned to look at him as he walked in. Ron looked white and Harry wondered if it was because he was standing so close to the odious concoction stewing in the pot.

Harry wrinkled his nose. The smell had got steadily worse over the past few days. It was almost unbearable.

"Now," Mrs Weasley said holding up a hand. "I know it smells…"

"You're not wrong," Ron mumbled. He grinned at Harry and Harry grinned back.

Mrs Weasley poked her younger son on the arm. "That's not helping Ronald, is it?" she said. She turned back to Harry and smiled warmly at him. "Come here, Harry dear," she said. She had her arms spread wide and Harry thought he was being invited in for a cuddle. He had worked out, accepting these spontaneous outbursts of affection, was far easier than attempting to avoid them.

But Mrs Weasley didn't want to embrace Harry.

She took hold of his shoulders and peered into his eyes.

"I have something for you," she said.

Harry saw Ron roll his eyes and he grinned again.

"Thank you," Harry said. He wished whatever it was, she would give it to him somewhere other than the kitchen. Somewhere not quite so close to the stinking stew.

"Hermione?" Mrs Weasley nodded and on cue, Hermione produced a clay dish and armed with a spoon, stood poised by the pot. She grimaced as she plunged the spoon into the broth and tipped it, black and syrupy, into the dish. "Now, dear," Mrs Weasley said to Harry. "Sit down and keep an open mind, okay?"

She waited for him to nod. He obliged, but Ron's face, the smell, his instinct, was telling him to run. He sat, nervously.

Hermione handed the dish to Mrs Weasley who took it and sniffed at the mixture. She retched, but then quickly smiled.

"I know it smells bad, but you have to give it time to work," she said.

Harry was beginning to panic now. He looked at Ron who shrugged and then at Hermione who grimaced. They both looked horrified and sympathetic in equal measure. Harry turned to Mrs Weasley.

"You're not expecting me to drink that, are you?"

Mrs Weasley laughed. "Oh no, dear," she said. She held the spoon up. "It's a paste. For your face."

"What?"

"I've been working on something. I couldn't use magic because of the root of the scar, but I had some ideas and with the help of Letitia Luck's 'Magical Remedies without Magic' book, I think I've cracked it."

Harry stood up.

"Thanks, Mrs Weasley," he said. "But I don't think I can stand that on my face…" He peered at it in disgust as it flopped, like a lethargic slug, from the spoon, back into the dish.

Mrs Weasley pushed him back down.

"Don't be silly, dear," she said with a note of authority. "The smell goes once it's fully embedded in the flesh." She scooped more of the mixture onto the spoon and thrust it towards Harry's face. He recoiled, but Mrs Weasley was determined. As she got closer, she had the look of a mad woman.

"It can't hurt, Harry," Hermione said.

Harry glanced at her and she shrugged.

He went to speak, but Mrs Weasley's spoon found its mark and Harry felt an odd tingling sensation on his face. It suddenly felt cool and strangely, calming. He relaxed a little.

"A little more," Mrs Weasley said and slathered on more goo. She stood back and appraised her handiwork. "There," she said. "All covered just nicely. Make sure you leave it for half an hour before you wash your face, dear."

Harry looked at Ron. "Well?" he said.

"You look like your face is covered with black slime," he said.

Mrs Weasley lashed out at her son, but she was still holding the spoon and drops of slime flew around the kitchen.

"I suggest you get a cloth and clear this mess up," she said shrilly. She stared at Ron with frost and then smiled warmly at Harry. "If you can just ignore the smell for a few moments, I think you'll find it very magic indeed."

Harry stood up. He tried to smile, but his face felt almost frozen. He looked at Hermione who was grinning at him still.

"Come on, Harry," she said. "We need to let Ron clear up. Let's go and get some fresh air." She linked her arm through his and dragged him out of the kitchen.

They closed the door behind them, cutting out the sound of Ron's protests.

* * *

Outside the Weasley house, there was calm and quiet. The preparations for Fred's Memorial were in place and people were expected to arrive soon after midday. It was barely yet 9 o'clock.

"It's going to be a long day," Hermione said.

Harry looked up at the sky. "Yeah."

He was walking towards the remains of one of Mr Weasley's experiments. He had taken an old- fashioned carriage, the type once pulled by horses, and had attempted to fix a motor engine to it. It had failed miserably, and he never had the heart to dispose of it. Now it looked like it was being swallowed up by nature. There was something oddly peaceful about it.

Harry went and sat on the old seat that was at ground level and closed his eyes.

"How does it feel?" Hermione asked, sitting next to him.

Harry touched his face gingerly. "Weird," he said. He opened his eyes and looked at Hermione. "I'm scared my whole face will peel off."

"It doesn't smell too bad."

"You haven't got it plastered under your nose!"

Hermione laughed. "No, I haven't." She sighed and leant back. "Will you be okay?"

Harry sighed, but didn't answer. He didn't know what to say. He trusted Hermione. He loved her. But he couldn't fathom what he was feeling and couldn't begin to try and explain to her.

"I saw Malfoy this morning," he said. Hermione sat up and stared at Harry with a frown on her face.

"Malfoy?" she queried. "He came here?" She pursed her lips. "Harry, you mustn't listen to him."

Harry smiled. "It's okay Hermione," he said. "He actually came to apologise."

Hermione's frown deepened. "Apologise? Are we talking about the same person?"

Harry laughed. "I know. Mad." He plucked a weed that was growing through the red leather of the seat. It protested and wriggled in Harry's grasp. "He said some other stuff too…" Harry let the weed fall from his fingers. It scampered off, grumbling bitterly.

Hermione waited, but Harry was quiet. Everything was quiet. There wasn't a single bird and the air seemed suspended and still as if that too, was waiting for Harry to speak. And then, quite suddenly, Hermione didn't want to hear what he had to say. She felt frightened. It was supposed to be over, but it wasn't over. She could see from the pain in Harry's eyes. She touched his face.

"It's completely gone," she said with a faint smile. "Your scar. It's just disappeared."

Harry smiled too. "That's great," he said.

"It's not permanent though," Hermione said. "I mean, it's just brilliant make-up I suppose. You have to put another layer on once a week. Or thereabouts." Her smile faded.

Harry nodded.

"Harry…" Hermione felt the onset of tears.

"I can't stay here," Harry said. He kept staring at the blue sky. He felt as if it was descending upon him and that he would be carried far away. He sighed, despondently, then looked at Hermione. "I just can't Hermione…"

Hermione didn't bother brushing her tears away.

"You deserve to be happy," she said quietly.

Harry smiled and took her hand. "Well, we all deserve that, Hermione, don't we?"


	5. Chapter 5

"It's beautiful," Hermione said looking up into the sky. And it really was.

It was the middle of the afternoon, but it had been made to look like twilight. A vast canopy was overhead and on one side of it, there was a smiling image of Fred's face. It billowed softly as the wind caught it, making it seem at times, as if he was laughing. It was as if he was watching over everyone. The roof of the canopy was deep violet and thousands of stars sparkled like diamonds spelling out Fred's name.

As everyone milled around, talking quietly, hundreds of yellow lights hovered gently, so that everywhere you looked, there was light and warmth. It was only when Harry accidentally swallowed one, that he realised they were fireflies that had been enchanted.

"You okay, Harry?" Hermione asked.

Harry smiled. "That's about the twentieth time you've asked me Hermione," he said.

"Right." Hermione sighed. "Sorry."

"Don't be." Harry looked at her. "You look nice," he said.

Hermione looked down at herself, at her silver dress. She touched the fabric with her fingertips. It was a beautiful dress.

"Feels a bit strange, dressing up like this." She leaned in closer to Harry. "It doesn't feel like a party."

"I know what you mean." Harry tugged at the tie around his neck.

George had insisted that everyone dress up. He wanted Fred's send-off to be monumental and fun. He had warned anyone who might feel like crying, that they would be escorted to the nearest portkey that would take them straight to Marvel Sepsist's kitchen. Marvel Sepsist had opened a restaurant and proudly offered plain food that was good for the soul. He believed, and was encouraged by a few, that now Voldemort was gone, it was important to go back to basics. To start over as it were. Rat stew was on his menu, as was 'Nine Tail Dumplings', 'Clippings and Fluff and Stuff' and his famous Froth Cups; Waxy and Wormy, Cheesy, Droppings Delight and Fish Tail Surprise.

No one in their right mind wanted to experience the hell of Marvel Sepsist's kitchen.

"Alright Harry?" Ron had finally managed to disentangle himself from his great Aunt Muriel.

Hermione blushed. "He's fine Ron, aren't you Harry?"

Harry offered Ron a weak smile. "How are you holding up?" he asked.

Ron shrugged. "You know. It's all a bit weird. Mum keeps crying and laughing at the same time. I think she's lost the plot."

"Look who's just walked in." Harry and Ron looked to where Hermione was staring. Professor McGonagall was standing there in a dark blue dress. She looked somewhat regal. She looked around the room and when her eyes found Harry, she smiled. Then she glanced at Hermione and Ron and inclined her head.

But Harry wasn't looking at Professor McGonagall; behind her, partially hidden from their view, was a wizard with a lot of long, grey hair. Harry's heart caught in his throat for a moment and then he felt a hand on his arm.

"It's Aberforth, Harry."

"I know it is." Harry laughed nervously and he pretended not to see the worried glance Hermione directed at Ron.

Aberforth Dumbledore stepped out from beside Professor McGonagall and he too, looked around the room, but Harry turned away. He gritted his teeth. This was what it would be like now. People wanting to stare at him. He could tell most people were in awe of him, but there were others too, who looked at him as if he was under a microscope.

"Luna! Neville!"

Hermione's face lit up and Harry tried to relax. He may not want to be there, but he had to keep smiling. For everybody's sake.

Hermione hugged Neville and then Luna.

"Thanks for coming," Ron said.

"Wouldn't have missed it," Neville said patting Ron on the shoulder.

"Hello Ron, Hermione," Luna said. "This is a lovely celebration of your brother's life, Ron," she said. She smiled serenely. She was dressed, head to foot in yellow. She turned to Harry. "Harry," she said. She took his hand. It was an intimate gesture and it surprised Harry, but he felt the kindness of her touch.

"This must be unbearable for you, I imagine," she said quietly, dropping his hand.

"What do you mean?" Harry looked at Ron, but he and Hermione were talking to Neville. "Much worse for his family."

Luna smiled at him. "I don't mean that, silly." She tilted her head to one side and appraised him. "I can see how troubled you are. You must be eaten up by guilt." She touched his face where his new scar was hidden. "I imagine you feel alone and wished you had died instead of Fred and the others."

Harry stared at Luna, then he nodded.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said. "I wish there was something I could do to help."

"What does he need help with?" Ginny suddenly appeared. She took Harry's hand. "I can help," she said. Harry laughed and squeezed her fingers.

"Nothing," he said. He smiled at Luna. "Thank you," he said to her.

Luna turned to Neville and took his hand. Harry saw Neville blush. He was glad they had found each other. Ron and Hermione seemed happy too. And then there was Ginny. He looked at her. She was watching him, troubled.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"People keep asking me that," he said.

Ginny let got of his hand. "I didn't think I was people, Harry," she said.

"I didn't mean that…" Harry ran his fingers through his hair. It was getting too long. He hated how thick it felt underneath his fingertips. "I'm sorry," he said. He didn't know what else to say.

Ginny nodded slightly. "I need to go and mingle," she said. She kissed Harry's cheek. "I'll wait for you," she whispered. "No matter how long it takes."

She walked away and Harry's heart ached. She was dressed in a red dress and she looked stunning, but something stopped him going after her.

There was the sound of metal clinking against a glass and Mr Weasley was suddenly head and shoulders above everyone else. He was standing on a platform in front of his son's face, holding a glass and a spoon. He looked around sombrely for a moment, and then he smiled and took a deep breath.

"Fred would have hated this," he said. There was a spattering of laughter. "We knew he would, but he would have also known how much we needed to do this. We needed to see you all. Our friends and family, and share with you, the life of our son…" he stopped for a moment and looked down. Harry saw his chest heaving.

"We all feel his loss. Some of us more than others, but he touched you all. He made it his business to smile at everyone of you. He winked. He laughed. He made us laugh. He told stories. He listened. He loved. He was…" He paused again and this time, the silence was longer. A tear rolled down his cheek. He brushed it away and then smiled. There was agony on his face.

"He was one of a kind," he said. He drew a deep, shaky breath. "I'm not ashamed," he said brokenly. "To cry over the loss of my son, but I don't want another second lost to the dark cloud we have all been under for many years." Harry couldn't be certain, but he felt as if Mr Weasley sought him out. "We have all lost people, but thanks to the bravery and courage of a few, the rest of us have futures to look forward to."

His eyes roved around the room again.

"I'm going to be a grandpa," he said. A cheer went up and Harry saw someone clasping Bill's hand. "I have my other sons. My lovely daughter," he smiled and blew a kiss. "And my even lovelier wife." Another cheer went up and his eyes once again sought out Harry. "My family," he said quietly.

"Get on with it, Dad." There was more laughter and someone, Aunt Muriel, Harry thought, tutted loudly in disgust.

Mr Weasley laughed. "Sorry George," he said. He raised his glass high above his head. "To our son. Our brother and to our friend. To Fred."

There were choruses of "To Fred", followed by clapping and then George leapt upon the platform his dad was still standing on. He put an arm around him.

"I just wanted to say, Dad was right, Fred would have hated all this melancholy stuff, so without further ado…" He lifted his wand high in the sky and a multi-coloured swirl erupted from the end. The violet sky broke apart as the jets of colour spiralled and sparkled and then began to explode.

People began to cheer. George leapt down from the platform and Harry heard him shout. 'That's more like it, Freddie'.

Fireworks exploded from the jets of light and every colour rained down upon the assembled heads. The fireflies, outnumbered and with the enchantment spells wearing off, scattered.

And then from somewhere, music began to play.

Harry smiled and allowed Mrs Weasley to hug him. Several times. He danced with Ginny and kissed her gently on the lips. Told her he was sorry for being distant. Told her he just needed time. More time. And then he walked away from the music and the noise. Away from his friends and those that wanted to be his family and he had never felt more alone.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry felt as if he was suffocating. He couldn't stand another second amidst the noise. The laughter and the tears were inside his head, tormenting him.

He walked away from the crowd. It was almost evening and the sky was streaked yellow and pink. It was beautiful, but it was torture.

He stood there looking at it, and all he felt was loss and guilt. He turned his eyes away.

Someone else was there. Someone had taken themselves off and hidden amongst the tall grass. They sniffed loudly. Harry went to retrace his steps, wanting to leave them in peace. Wanting himself, to remain undetected.

"Is someone there?" The voice came seemingly from nowhere. Unmistakable. It was George. His red head popped up above the grass. "Harry!" he said with a watery smile. "Come and join me." Harry offered a smile and pushed through the grass and sat down. George grinned, but Harry could see the puffiness around his eyes.

"Just taking it all in, Harry," he said. He lay back down and put his hands under his head. "Lovely evening." He looked at Harry. "Isn't it?"

Harry nodded and lay down next to George. "Yes, it is."

They lay there in silence. In the distance they could hear the music and the noise of the guests. There was a lot of laughter.

"Fred would have approved," said George. Harry smiled. A fly buzzed dolefully around Harry's head. He watched it intently.

"I know what you're feeling Harry," George said quietly. Harry felt his heart rate ramp up, but he said nothing. "You should know, that when I look at you, I don't see the person responsible for my brother's death. I see the person responsible for my brothers' lives and my sister's. My mum's. My Dad's." He sighed. "We all want you to stay Harry."

Harry felt a jolt inside. It was agony. A tear rolled down the side of his cheek and he wiped it away. He looked sideways at George.

"That means a lot, George. Thank you."

"You won't though, will you?" They stared at each other and then George released Harry and returned his gaze to the sky. "Ginny said you hate yourself and you can't bear her touching you anymore. I heard her telling mum."

Harry swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat.

"And Ron said you'd never be happy, if you stayed."

The pink and yellow streaks had disappeared, and the sky was now made up of grey. George sat up. He leant over his knees, but he looked back at Harry.

"I lost my brother," he said. "I don't want to lose another one. So, stay, Harry. Or if you go, come back." He stood up and held out his hand. Harry took it and George pulled him to his feet. "Better get back," he said. He clapped Harry on the shoulder and grinned. "And if I have to face them all, you do too."

* * *

Hagrid was there.

He charged at Harry and scooped him into an embrace. "Harry," he said warmly. He put him down and looked at George.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "I wasn't sure I could…" He stopped and pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket. He blew his nose. It was an alarming noise.

"No tears Hagrid. Remember who this is for. Laughter and rude jokes only." He clapped Hagrid on the arm and looked at Harry. "Alright, Harry?" he said.

Harry nodded and George walked away.

"He's being very brave," said Hagrid. "And all the Weasley's." He looked over his chaotic beard at Harry. "What about you? How are you holding up?"

"I'm fine Hagrid." He grimaced. "I just wished people would stop worrying about me so much. It just makes me feel even worse."

Hagrid patted his shoulder. Harry momentarily felt as if he was being pummelled into the ground.

"We just care about you is all," he said.

"Hagrid!" Hermione dashed across the grass and allowed Hagrid to envelope her in a monstrous hug. Ron was behind her and Hagrid grabbed him too.

"Good to see yer both," Hagrid said, wiping his eyes.

"Remember what George said," Harry said to Hagrid.

Hagrid nodded. "I'm going to pay my respects to your parents, Ron," he said. "And then I'll treat myself to a little something. You know, just to remember Fred."

He ambled away. People parted for him as he walked.

"Where have you been?" Ron said. He narrowed his eyes at Harry.

"Just chatting to George," he said. Hermione looked down. Harry noticed the flush on her cheeks. "Alright, what's Hermione been saying?" he asked.

"That you're thinking of leaving…"

Harry sighed. "Thinking about it, Ron. I haven't actually left thought, have I?" He trawled his fingers through his hair and sighed. "Can we not do this now?"

"No. Right." Ron looked at Harry for a moment. It was as if he was trying to get inside his head. "We've been through a lot," he said. "I know you." He sighed. "Just don't do anything stupid," he said. "Don't dare do anything stupid. At least, not without talking to me first."

Harry smiled. "Didn't know you cared," he said. And for a moment, he felt like his old self. It was a wonderful feeling, to just allow himself to be free from all the torment inside his mind. Hermione smiled too. She looked relieved.

"Don't care that much," Ron mumbled.

Harry laughed. "It's out there, Ron. You heard it too Hermione, didn't you?"

She grinned. "I definitely heard it," she said. She took Ron's hand and linked her arm through Harry's. Harry felt her fingers squeezing his flesh and he allowed the sensation to flow through him.

Perhaps he could learn to forgive himself.

Someone shouted. They stopped as an angry tirade shattered the tranquillity of the evening. It was Mrs Weasley. They heard Mr Weasley trying to placate her. Ron dropped Hermione's hand and ran. Harry and Hermione followed.

Underneath the canopy, there was a circle of people all staring towards two figures standing in black. Two figures with white hair.

It was Draco and his mother.

Mrs Weasley, in bright purple was glaring at them. She looked ready to pounce.

Mrs Malfoy had been crying. "Truly. We are here to pay our respects, but we should go."

Harry glanced at Draco and watched as he scanned the crowd. He seemed paler than usual. When he saw Harry, he stared at him.

Hermione saw the look. "What's he doing, Harry?" she said. She looked from Harry back to Draco, but he was looking at his mother again. He seemed smaller than ususal. And scared.

Ron was facing him, his arms rigid by his sides. His face contorted with rage. Harry was certain he was going to hit Draco, but it wasn't his place to stop him. Mr Weasley had one arm around his wife's shoulders and another on Ron's arm.

"We all need to calm down," Mr Weasley said. "Ron," he said with a hint of warning in his voice. But Ron was fixated on Draco.

George pushed through the crowd and stood in front of Ron. He faced Mrs Malfoy and Draco.

"Thank you for coming," he said. He turned and gathered Ron to his side. "It might be better if you do go, but it means a lot you wanted to pay your respects."

"What are you saying?" Ron said looking at his brother. He turned back to Draco. "Here's here to gloat and I'm going to thump him." He was ready to spring, but George had a firm grip around his shoulders.

"You'll do no such thing, Ron. Remember why we're here." He looked at Draco who was looking at the ground. It was as if he wanted it to swallow him whole. "You're not here to gloat, are you, Draco?" George said. Harry could tell he said was struggling to get the words out.

Draco looked at George and shook his head slowly.

"No," he said. "Just to say sorry."

"We don't want you here," Mrs Weasley said, but her voice broke and she collapsed against her husband.

Mrs Malfoy put out a hand in supplication. "Please," she said. "I'm truly sorry. Draco wanted to, but I should have said 'no'."

"Yeah, you should have." Ron was still seething. Still with clenched fists, ready to fight.

Mrs Malfoy took her son's hand and tugged him towards her. She looked at Mrs Weasley and a tear slid down her cheek. "I'm so sorry," she said again and then her face crumpled, and she turned away, dragging Draco behind her.

* * *

"I don't know why you're defending him!" Ron was even redder than usual.

"I'm not, Ron. At least I don't mean to…" Hermione trailed off. She looked distressed and glanced at Harry for help.

"I think what Hermione's trying to say, is that he looked genuinely sorry. It doesn't make him less of an arse, Ron."

"No, it bloody well doesn't." His fury began to subside. "Why did they come in the first place?"

"Just think about what they were and what they've become." Hermione put out a hand as Ron glared at her again. "It's just an observation Ron," she said. "I'm not saying I feel sorry for them, but without Mr Malfoy in their lives, they seem… lost…" Hermione shrugged. "Nothing is the same anymore."

Harry walked to the window and looked out. It was almost completely dark, but there was an abundance of stars. It really was a beautiful night. The calm feeling from before had gone. He was feeling anxious and irritable.

He was suddenly aware of people talking below. He couldn't see anyone, but he recognised the voice. It was Mrs McGonagall. He leaned out of the window.

"You're not going to jump, are you?" Ron said from behind him.

"Shh," Harry said. "It's McGonagall." He screwed up his face trying to discern what she was saying, but the voice was muffled by the time it reached his ears. He turned to Ron with a grin. "Do you still have the listening ear?"

Hermione gasped in horror. "Harry, no!" She glanced at Ron, but saw he was grinning too. "Besides, Crookshanks ate it, remember?"

"Yeah, he did." Ron said with mock disappointment. "But you know Fred…" He grinned again and Harry grinned back.


	7. Chapter 7

"I know this may be difficult for you to hear, Molly, but the best place for Harry now…"

"The _safest_ place…" Aberforth Dumbledore's gravelly voice interrupted Minerva McGonagall's, but he left the sentence unfinished. There was silence for a moment and then Mrs Weasley's voice.

"That boy has been through enough. It's time he was allowed to live a normal life and the best way of him doing that, is to stay here with us."

"He will never live a normal life," Aberforth said. "Not while…"

"Hush, Aberforth," Minerva whispered. There was another silence and Harry had the distinct impression that the head of Gryffindor was staring out into the night as if she knew someone was listening.

"Harry!" Hermione put a hand on his arm. "Please don't listen to this," she said beseechingly. "No good can come of it."

"You're right Hermione," Harry said. He handed the ear to Ron. "I'm done with listening at doors. Anything they have to say about me, can be said in front of me." He strode across the room.

"Harry…" Ron called out to his friend.

"It's no use trying to stop me," Harry said with a grimace. "How would you feel…"

"Mate," Ron walked to Harry and opened the door. "I'm not trying to stop you. I want to go with you."

"Ron!" Hermione looked at Ron and then at Harry. She groaned. "Well, I'll come too," she said. "You need a voice of reason. Neither of you are capable of coherent speech when you get angry."

Harry, followed by Ron and Hermione, crept quietly down the stairs. He didn't want any of them to know he was coming, giving them time to face him with smiles and lies.

Outside the kitchen, he paused. He felt afraid, but more than that, he felt determined to discover the truth. He pushed open the door brazenly, and walked from the gloom of the passage, into the glare of yellow light. The unpleasant odour from Mrs Weasley's concoction still hung in the air.

Harry nodded at Mrs McGonagall who looked as if she had seen a ghost. Then he turned to Aberforth, struck as always, by the similarity to his brother, his old headmaster. He smiled wanly and then sat down. Ron pulled out a chair next to him and Hermione sat opposite.

"Harry, dear," Mrs Weasley said… She trailed off and looked to her husband, but Mr Weasley merely sighed, as if he was tired.

"I need to know what it is I should be afraid of," Harry said. He tried to keep his voice even.

Mrs Weasley glared at Mrs McGonagall. "Nothing at all, dear." She said. "Not while you're here, under our roof."

Harry smiled at her. "I can't stay here forever though, can I?"

Molly Weasley plopped down in a chair. Her small eyes were full of sorrow. "I don't see why not," she said quietly. Behind her, Mr Weasley gripped her shoulders.

No one said anything for a while, but the silence was heavy, punctuated by the loud ticking of a clock. Harry waited.

"We should go," Mrs McGonagall said eventually. She stood up. "This was not the right time to address this."

"You can't leave," Harry said. He stood too. "If something is wrong, I need to know."

Mrs McGonagall shook her head. "Another time, Harry," she said.

"No! Now." Harry clenched his fists. The conflict was swirling inside him. He felt almost lightheaded. Beside him, he felt Ron stand in solidarity.

"Harry, please…" Mrs Weasley suddenly looked old and frail and for a moment Harry was deluged with guilt, but he had to know.

"I'm sorry," he said. "But you can't protect me anymore." He looked at Mrs McGonagall. "None of you can."

"That's where you're wrong, Harry," Mrs Weasley said. "We can protect you. Tell him Arthur."

Mr Weasley nodded, but he looked uneasy. "As long as you're under this roof, Harry," he said. "Molly's right, we can protect you." He glanced at the huge pot that stood on the hob and Harry realised it was so much more than just to cover up his scar.

"It's not enough," Hermione said. Her voice was quiet, barely audible, but everyone turned to look at her. She smiled at Harry and he saw her eyes were wet with tears. "How can any of us expect Harry to live a normal life if we're not honest with him?" she said. She looked at Mrs Weasley. "We all want to protect him." Her voice wavered. "But we can't."

Aberforth stood. He seemed to fill the room.

"It's not over," he said simply. He moved his chair out of the way and walked around the table so that he was standing in front of Harry. He towered above him. He took hold of Harry's chin and tilted his face to the side. "You've done a good job of hiding the scar, Molly," he said. He studied Harry's face and then his eyes settled on Harry's. "It's not over," he said again.

"What do you mean?" Hermione was on her feet. Harry heard the fear in her voice. "We saw it. He's dead. It's over."

Aberforth glanced over Harry's shoulder at Hermione.

"You fought a good fight," he said. "All of you."

"What do you mean, 'it's not over'?" Hermione asked again.

Aberforth looked back at Harry. "You know, don't you? You can feel it, inside?"

Harry took a step backwards. There was roaring in his head. He was suddenly looking at Professor Dumbledore and the room had changed. They were in his office.

"I can't control it," Harry said.

Professor Dumbledore took hold of his shoulders. "You can," he said, squeezing tightly.

Harry felt himself smiling. "What if I don't want to?" he said.

Harry's vision blurred. He felt himself falling. He heard a shriek. It was Mrs Weasley. Then he heard Hermione calling his name, but it sounded far away. He felt himself hit the floor and then a darkness fell over him. It coated him, but somehow, he was still aware. He could feel hands touching him gently and he felt himself being lifted, but the darkness grew thicker.

"This is unexpected," a voice said into the nothingness. Then Harry heard a cold, cruel laugh and then nothing.

* * *

"This feels like who I'm supposed to be."

Professor Dumbledore sighed. He linked his fingers together and allowed his eyes to rove across the face of the boy in front of him.

"There is another truth inside of you," he said. "It runs deeper and will bring you peace and love."

"What good is peace and love when you can have power and respect?"

Professor Dumbledore winced. He felt as if he was losing and was no longer sure words alone would make a difference.

"A coward seeks power over love," he replied.

The boy smiled and the image turned to dust.

* * *

Harry opened his eyes. It was dark and quiet.

He lay there waiting for his heart to stop racing. He felt the blackened scar burning against his flesh. What was he turning into? He saw a path of darkness and loneliness ahead, but it seemed infinitely better than the one he was on, where every second felt like torture. Was it always going to turn out this way?

'The Boy who Lived', but had never really lived. Had never known peace. Had always longed for family and acceptance, but when it came, was marred by more death and guilt.

Harry felt as if his soul had been ripped into pieces. He was no longer a whole person and he was frightened of what he would become.

He looked across the darkened room at Ron. He was fast asleep with one arm dangling out of the bed. He didn't want to betray his trust, but if he stayed, something bad would happen. He could feel it.

He pushed the covers away and crept from his bed.

Outside the cool night air soothed his flesh and made him feel alive. He walked away and felt the night wrap around him as if welcoming him.


	8. Chapter 8

It was dark, but a strange light filtered through Harry's eyelids. His head hurt so he kept his eyes closed. Then he realised his body hurt too. He groaned.

"Is he waking up?" It was a woman's voice.

Snippets of memory rose like smoke in his mind. He saw Hermione and Ron standing over him. He saw Dumbledore. No. It was his brother, Aberforth. And then he saw Voldemort. He saw him staring at him. As his body disintegrated, his smile slowly dissolved.

It was over.

And then he heard another voice. Aberforth's: "It's not over. You know that, don't you?"

A pain shot through Harry's body, but it was coaxed away by the darkness pressing in on him.

"Let him sleep," the woman said.

* * *

"Harry!" Hermione walked back inside the house. Ginny was standing there. She looked scared. Hermione shook her head. "He's nowhere."

A tear streaked down Ginny's cheek.

"How could he do this?" Her voice caught in her throat. Hermione had no answer for her. Ron appeared. His hair was dishevelled, and he had a look of madness about him.

"Gone," he said. He looked around the kitchen. His mum was sitting slumped at the table and his dad was out, presumably still looking for Harry. "He's just gone."

Hermione went to him and touched his fingertips with her own. "We'll find him," she said.

He looked at her, then shook his head. "We won't though. Not if he doesn't want to be found."

"Daddy will find him," Molly Weasley said, but she looked far from believing it herself. Ginny sat down next to her and put an arm around her mother's shoulders.

"It's not your fault, Mum," Ginny said.

Mrs Weasley looked at her daughter and tried to smile, but her spirits failed her. Her face crumpled in anguish instead.

"I should have made sure he couldn't just up and leave," she said. She seemed to slump further within herself. "He was my responsibility."

George walked into the room. He paused as his eyes fell on his mum, but then he went to Ron and clapped him on the shoulder. Ron noticed he had recently got as tall as George and Fred.

Fred.

He would always feel as if something was missing. And now Harry.

"Harry's a big boy," George said as he sat down. "He can look after himself."

"He can't," Mrs Weasley said shrilly. Her fingers fluttered together anxiously.

"Calm down, Mum," George said. He smiled at her reassuringly. "None of us knew what was going on inside his head." He looked at Ron. "Not really, and I think it was a bit too much for him. After everything that's happened…" He trailed off. "Being part of our family was like torture to him."

"Don't be silly!" Mrs Weasley slapped the table. "We told him. Over and over, that it wasn't his fault. We told him we wanted him to be part of this family. We loved him."

George sat back in his chair. "Exactly," he said. "It was torture." He flicked a random piece of potato peel at Ron. "I mean, who would want you for a brother?" He laughed mournfully. Ron flopped down next to George, defeated. "We all need to try and understand that. Right, Ron?"

Ron shrugged. He didn't know what to think anymore. He had wanted Harry to trust him and he felt betrayed by his sudden disappearance and guilty for feeling betrayed. But most of all he felt afraid for him. He ran his fingers through his hair and found the potato peel.

"I understand," Hermione said. She looked at Ginny and smiled warmly. Then she looked at Mrs Weasley whose face was wet with tears. "I think he wishes he had died instead of Fred, or Tonks, or any of them." A tear slipped down her own cheek. She wiped it away. "That's just Harry," she said.

"We have to find him," Ron said quietly as he ripped the potato peel into pieces.

The door opened and Mr Weasley walked in. His face was pale, and he wore a hapless expression.

"No one has seen him," he said, squeezing his wife's shoulders. Then he looked around at everyone carefully. "We have let Aberforth know. He's in talks right now, to see what is to be done. If anything can be done." He sighed as if deeply disturbed. "It's vital he can't leave the country," he mumbled.

"Tell us why, Mr Weasley," Hermione said. "What is it that's wrong with Harry?" Mr Weasley stared at Hermione and said nothing. "There is something wrong, isn't there?"

Mr Weasley nodded slowly, then he folded himself down into a chair.

"Oh dear," he said. "I had rather hoped we wouldn't have to deal with this so soon."

* * *

"Has he got the Elder Wand with him?"

"I think so."

"He should be waking up,"

"If he chooses, he doesn't ever have to wake up."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore steepled his hands and peered over his glasses. He tapped two of his fingers together as if waiting.

"This is becoming a habit," he said, finally.

"I'm not sure you have anything worth me staying for."

"That may well be the case, but I shall exercise age and authority and ask you to listen anyway." His eyes seemed to blaze even brighter than usual, as if they had their own story to tell. "You are lost, and I would like to assist you in finding yourself again."

"I don't feel lost."

"And yet I am certain you are." Albus Dumbledore retracted his fingers and leaned back in his chair. It creaked slightly. It sounded more like a troubled sigh. "There is so much you don't know and don't understand, but I can help you. I can guide you. If you let me."

"I don't want your help anymore."

* * *

Hagrid paced the room manically. Every heavy footstep made the floorboards rise and fall slightly. Aberforth noticed the chandelier moved in time. A sprinkling of dust fell and landed in Aberforth's hot chocolate. It looked like ash.

"Hagrid, wearing out the floorboards won't help your friend."

Hagrid stopped and glared at Albus. "How was this allowed to happen?" His distress was partially hidden behind his beard, but his voice rose in anger.

Mrs McGonagall put out a hand and gently touched Hagrid's arm. It felt as if she was touching a slab of concrete.

"No one knew the extent of his… turmoil," she said. She had aged since the battle and aged further since Harry's disappearance.

The door opened and Bill Weasley walked in. He nodded around the room in greeting.

"The word is out," he said. "Kingsley is in talks at the Ministry. None of them want to listen." He pulled out a chair and sat himself down next to Abeforth. "Any news?" he asked.

Aberforth shook his head. The room was silent for a moment. Even Hagrid had ceased his pacing.

"Do we know if he had the Elder Wand?" Bill looked around the room, but no one answered him. "Well then," he said, finally. "We have a problem."

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I can never begin to imagine my HP is anywhere near like the original and the best, but if you are enjoying this, please leave a review to tell me. I'm writing a few different fanfics at the moment and reviews keep me interested and motivated! Thanks :-)


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